You open a box in your attic, rifling through it looking for that homecoming dress from senior year. Your daughter loves the way it sparkles. You pull the dress out and underneath there’s a picture. As you bring the photograph closer to your face, all the memories come back suddenly and without warning. You remember how close you two once were and laugh as you think of the crazy things you used to do together. You think back to when you first met them in middle school and how they were your only friend. You think back to the time in 7th grade when they made you cry, and how they still felt bad 5 years later. You chuckle as you think of how they would dance for you on your worst days, if only to get you to smile. You remember all these memories and more and for a split second, you wish you could be back, walking the halls together once more. You remember your first day of high school and seeing their face in your first period. A friendly face, that was always there, even when you didn’t know you needed it. You remember Junior year and the time you accidentally punched them in the ribs, and how you still felt bad 5 years later. And prom, who could forget prom, a wonderfully awkward night full of swing dancing, beat-boxing and laughter; you’re sure you still have the poster they made and the gift they gave you somewhere.  You dig through the box and find even more pictures, some you don’t even remember taking, but are sure glad you did. Your last first day, your last homecoming, last football game, last concert, last...everything. You look at your dress, shedding just as much glitter as the day you wore it, and try and imagine you are still 17, and your whole life is still ahead of you. You sit down next to the box and stare longingly at the picture, secretly wishing you could bring it all back. You see all the years of love and laughter, inside jokes and funny nicknames, the warmest of hugs on the coldest of nights and you so desperately want to go back and say all the things that you left unsaid. You look at the picture and see your best friend, and yet at the same time a complete and total stranger, and you wonder how a bond so strong could have broken so quick. Your daughter comes up and asks, “whos that?” as she points to the picture. You wipe your eyes and throw the picture back in a the box and shut it as you whisper. “No one, just an old friend.”